


God of Thunder (Poem)

by tracinginthesand



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Endgame, Fat!Thor, I am so angry about the body shaming and fat jokes I could explode, Poetry, Thor's glorious heavy body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 10:59:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18619279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracinginthesand/pseuds/tracinginthesand
Summary: And what did the god of thunder need abs for, anyway?





	God of Thunder (Poem)

God of Thunder

 

They laughed at your body

My breath pushed out

for a different reason

 

That heavy belly, gorgeous gut

those thick arms, full of muscle swaying

as you, staggering, lift that bottle.

Ass to die for in those ratty flannel pants, tits out, and I long.

 

I remember you saying  _another!_ in the early days

before you had known such loss

and I bite on a groan, thinking of

all the others you could be conjuring now

 

And what did the god of thunder need abs for, anyway?

You don’t call Mjolnir with your biceps

You call it with your heart

your desperate, confident, reaching fingers

 

You were never the god of hammers

Or sculpted, ripped, shredded muscles, the constant aching

need to contain yourself, to be large in the one place but not the other

 

Thunder comes from clouds, doesn’t it?

Heavy, overcast, roiling clouds that press a barometer,

not a barbell.

Thunder like footfalls to shake the earth with their coming

in that wide stride of a warrior king who swings an axe to split the sky

 

Who knows the joy of straddling a mountain? hips and thighs so big

my tendons ache just from settling on a lap both giving and unyielding

Offering up its secret of stiffness to my hands and my mouth,

To everything I would fit to it, kept by that tantalizing weight.

 

A riot of twisted hair, thick beard to drip sweat on me

Rolls on the back and the back of the neck to work my fingers between and

grip

So many places to dig in, to suck dark bruises,

to say, “I was here”

 

Wear your softness on the outside

The lightning pounds in your eyes all the same

 

Too much pressure, another

Too much water, another

Too much beer, another

Too much feasting, another

Indulgence, another

Desperation, another

 

Indulge my desperation, god of thunder, a mountain in the storm.

 

Another. 


End file.
